


A Test of Loyalty

by spicedrobot



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Choking, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Light Angst, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rough Oral Sex, Teratophilia, quid pro quo, this is crack and just based on good art and what that mouth do rouxls lmao don't look at me, you know what you're getting into here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 20:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: When one gives you everything, it's difficult to not give something in return.





	A Test of Loyalty

****“Thou summonedeth me, Lorde King?”

Rouxls’s teleportation spell fades, and he blinks until his eyes adjust to the gloom. The chamber is empty, save for the king upon his throne. Though his subjects had been in....short supply, the complete lack of them is peculiar.

The king clears his throat.

Rouxls bows a bit too quickly.

“Duke of Puzzles. How are you enjoying your new title?”

“It…” Rouxls stares at the king’s boots. “It hath been wonderfule, mine king.”

And it has been. Better than he could’ve hoped. No one left dares to question his intelligence or laugh at his calligraphy. He's _appreciated_ , finally, for the skills he has always possessed.

“I have been good to you, have I not?”

“Aye.” He chances a look and finds the king’s lips quirked to one side, a hint of fang reflected in the dim. Rouxls’s stomach twists.

“Approach the throne and kneel.”

There is a strange lilt to the king’s voice, unfamiliar, dreadfully so. Rouxls’s steps are unsteady, but he lowers himself to the floor, the carpet plush against his legs. The king dwarfs him at the best of times, and framed by his boots he feels an ant. The skin at the nape of his neck prickles.

“You are loyal, Kaard,” the king murmurs. The mouth along his stomach breathes, the warmth of its breath ruffling Rouxls’s hair, heating his face. “But one can never be too careful.”

“Mine king?”

“Loyalty must be continually challenged,” the startling blue of the king’s huge, gloved hand slides along his naked thigh, “in order to preserve the safety of the kingdom.”

Rouxls cannot drag his eyes away from his hand’s smooth path inward, just beneath the round swell of the king’s belly. All of the king is grand, larger than life. His lower mouth opens wider, the tips of his fangs dragging over skin, tongue lashing out as the king tugs his uniform to the side.

 _All_ of him grand, larger than life.

Rouxls cannot move an inch. Only his blood thunders, a shiver coursing in his bones, a bead of sweat shining at his temple.

“You, Kaard, understand what a burden this is. A king’s solemn duty…”

Rouxls’s face slackens, thoughts dulled and racing. The king’s words drift in and out as his gloved fist passes over his cock, pale and tinged blue at its fat tip. There was a time, when the king was not the king and the duke was not the duke, that Rouxls dreamed of this moment.

He exhales shakily as gloved fingers curl into his hair and draw him close.

* * *

The king is not kind. Still, Rouxls is thankful. His fingers curl and uncurl, bracketing the base of the king’s cock, holding it upright as he sucks, led by the tight grip on his head. His clothes feel constricting, stifling in the heat between the king’s meaty legs, his lower mouth wide and drooling, adding to the dampness in the air. A strange sweetness lingers in Rouxls’s mouth, faintly acrid, dizzying, but he dares not stop, not when the king’s cheeks burn blue and his tongue lolls over his fangs, as pleased as Rouxls’s seen him since his son disappeared, granting him a modicum of peace.

The king barely fits an inch or so inside his mouth, and tears prick his eyes at the strain of it, the want to do more, to please, to reach between his own legs and touch, but he dares not. A sigh rumbles in the king’s chest, and Rouxls redoubles his efforts, hollowing his cheeks, dragging his tongue against the thick, pulsing vein along the underside of his cock.

“Is this the best you can do?”

Rouxls swallows, widens his jaw, tells himself to relax, but only a third of his cock shines with saliva, the king little more than grinding into his mouth.

“Hm…” The king releases his hair only to hook his index finger behind the skin bisecting Rouxls’s lips. It doesn’t hurt, only tingles and stretches, jelly-like and flexible, as the king pulls and pulls, then—his cock pops through, clutched between skin and the edge of his mouth.

“T-thou hast—I—” Rouxls babbles, he cannot help it, words slurring against his cock as it begins to shift. The king grunts as he pumps his hips experimentally, the stripe of skin slipping from beneath his glans to the base of his cock, once, twice, setting a slow, rough rhythm. Rouxls can do little in this position, lips catching over his cock, his tongue lashing, sideways and ineffectual, against every inch he can.

The king seems not to mind at all, simply leans his cheek into his fist, pace quickening, fucking the side of his mouth while Rouxls whines and gasps.

“How nice. Your talents continue to surprise me.”

The king’s grin nearly splits his face as his thrusts quicken, jostling Rouxls enough that he almost falls backwards, mouth and skin stretching, tingling, body burning. His gloved fingers dig uselessly into the king’s thighs, drool haphazardly spilling from his lips, coating his chin, easing the catch-slide-tug as the king’s breathing grows labored.

“S-swallow every drop. Don’t disappoint me.”

The king groans and withdraws fully before shoving his cock back in Rouxls’s mouth, deeper than ever before. His jaw protests, a choked whimper warbling around the intrusion, hot and heavy and impossibly huge.

Rouxls swallows, and the pain eases, his cock giving its own traitorous pulse, disabling him, the first scalding throb catching on the back of his tongue, then another. He swallows again and again, throat convulsing, his stomach burning, swelling with it. Tears threaten at the edge of his vision, and he chokes, he can’t help it, the last few spurts catching against his cheek and over the bridge of his nose as he pulls back and coughs.

Rouxls blinks rapidly as he wheezes, cheek pressed into the heat of the king’s thigh. His own thighs clench together, needfully, stupidly, afraid that the king will see, _wanting_ him to see.

“Almost, Rouxls.”

A finger returns, tugging the slice of skin away from his mouth, angling Rouxls’s face to survey him, sweaty and teary-eyed, flushed deep blue and drooling. Rouxls keeps his mouth open, the spend on his tongue sickly sweet and salty, presented for the king’s judgement.

“That’s a better look for you.”

Then, smooth, blunt fingers drag over his cheeks, his trembling lips.

“Here.”

Rouxls accepts the offer gratefully, lapping what he missed from the king’s curled fingers.

The king’s kindness is a rare thing, and it is best to never waste it.


End file.
